


so near, nothing between us

by TheTeaIsAddictive



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Weddings, and yet i wrote it anyway, at some point, may turn into a, tags liable to be added but nothing triggering, there will definitely be, who needed this? nobody, yep that's right it's a fake-dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-01-27 23:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12592576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTeaIsAddictive/pseuds/TheTeaIsAddictive
Summary: When his beloved uncle gets married, Adam decides to prove he's outgrown his partying ways by bringing his girlfriend to the wedding. The only problem? She just broke up with him, and there's only 4 weeks before the wedding. When longtime friend Belle offers to step in, neither of them suspect that this 'simple' solution might get a little complicated when feelings get involved ...or, the fake-dating au nobody asked for





	1. Chapter 1

**So Near, Nothing Between Us**

**Chapter One**

Not for the first time since the whole mess had begun, Adam wondered exactly how he had gotten into this position. 

Everything had been fine a few months ago. Uncle Vincent had announced he was getting married. Adam had been invited -- or rather, given a rather fancy series of boxes to tick indicating any allergies and the option of a plus-one on the RSVP card. He and Agatha had been dating for a little while (well, two months), and in an effort to show his uncle that he had grown out of the party-boy stage which Vincent had tried his best to steer him through, Adam had ticked the box and invited Agatha to the wedding. After he had sent the card off, he had characteristically forgotten about the wedding altogether. 

None of this would have been a problem warranting more than a frenzied panic a week before the wedding, if Agatha hadn’t broken up with him six weeks after he RSVP’d. 

“You need to go outside,” his roommate Lumière said after tolerating a week of Adam dragging his feet around their flat. “Get out, enjoy the fresh air?”

Adam glared at Lumière from his position on the sofa, curled inside an old university hoodie and pyjama bottoms. “I really don’t want to bump into her. It wasn’t an amicable breakup.”

“Listen to yourself! ‘Amicable breakup’ -- you dropped out the law course after three weeks and you still talk like you’re overseeing divorce proceedings.” Lumière chuckled to himself as he made a pot of coffee. 

“That was five years ago,” Adam scowled. “I was eighteen and stupid --”

“And now you’re twenty-three and stupid,” Lumière interrupted. 

“And _now_ ,” Adam continued with another glare, “I have successfully graduated, in a field I actually enjoy, so I’d appreciate it if we stopped with the teasing.” His voice was sharp and harsh, but five years of friendship had been more than enough time for Adam’s friends to realise that although he might bark, he never bit. 

Lumière shrugged, going back to the coffee. “So you don’t want to see Agatha,” he said, reviving the original conversation. “Just avoid her, then! It’s not like you to be so hung up on a girl -- you were only dating for, what, three and a half months?”

“She can get . . . intense, when she’s mad,” Adam said. “So it’s not so much emotional baggage as self-preservation that’s keeping me inside.”

“Well, you’re going to have to go out if you want to meet Belle in time for lunch,” Lumière said. “It’s already quarter past 11.”

“What?!” Adam suddenly leapt off the sofa, looking at the wall clock. “Oh, crap, I’m going to be so late -- why didn’t you tell me it was nearly time!” He raced back to his room, hurriedly stripping off his pyjamas and hunting for a shirt and jeans. 

“I didn’t realise I was your personal pocket watch,” Lumière sniffed from the kitchen. “I thought that was Cogsworth’s job.”

“Leave him out of this, please,” Adam said as he dragged a brush through his hair, trying his best to flatten the back. “You say his name more than three times and he just _appears_. It’s uncanny.”

“He’s our friend, not the ghost of Bloody Mary,” Lumière said.

“I don’t want to be later than I’m going to be,” Adam said, hurriedly tying his laces and grabbing his wallet. “If I see Agatha before I get to Belle, she _will_ kill me, so it was nice knowing you.”

“Bye,” he said, sipping his coffee as Adam barrelled out the door. 

On a normal day it took fifteen minutes for Adam to walk the short distance from his and Lumière’s flat to the Costa where he and Belle liked to meet. Today, in the pouring rain and ten minutes late, it took him seven and a half minutes to run there. He pushed the door open, allowing the heat to warm his frozen fingers even as he yanked his scarf away from his neck, his normally pale face bright red from the exertion. He ran a hand through his hair, trying in vain to lift it away from his face so it didn’t stick. Still catching his breath, he ordered a latte at the counter as he scanned the shop for Belle. After a minute of looking, he found her settled in the corner of the booth furthest from the door, several stacks of books surrounding her as she typed furiously away at her laptop. A half-full mug of hot chocolate was next to her, and Adam watched as she picked it up and sipped absently. 

“Hey,” he said, carrying his own mug over and sliding in opposite her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hi,” she said, blinking steadily as she met his gaze. She frowned after a moment, rubbing her temples and pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Ugh, this report is killing me. I’ve been working on it for three hours now, and I’m still only halfway through my plan.”

Adam hummed sympathetically as he blew on his drink. Belle’s essay plans were usually a bullet-pointed version of the actual essay, complete with correct referencing. It took a long time to complete the plans, but the actual writing of the essay -- or in this case, report -- always came easily once she’d gained the professor’s approval. He’d seen one of her plans while she was still writing it -- a mixture of quotes and paraphrases, colour co-ordinated highlights and bullet points -- and had marvelled at her professors making any sense of the plan whatsoever. That said, if Adam had planned out some more of his essays, he would have probably had a better series of grades in his early years, before he got into his stride at university. 

“Take a break,” he said. “Not just for my sake, but your sanity." 

Belle sighed, before saving her work and tidying her laptop and books off the table. She took a long sip of her hot chocolate, and as she closed her eyes Adam could see the tension in her posture relax. 

“So,” he asked, “I take it I shouldn’t ask about the semester?”

Belle shot him a death glare. “Just because you’ve graduated doesn’t mean you get a free pass on being overly smug.”

Adam grinned, sipping his coffee. He and Belle were very similar, in that they were more than a little standoffish, could strike the fear of God into somebody by glaring at them, and based their friendship primarily on mutual respect and snark, mixed with at-home movie nights and general griping about academia. “I’m really not being _overly_ smug,” he argued. “I still don’t have a job in my field, and you’ve been holding your part-time work at the Tech Institute over my head since you got the place.”

“True,” Belle shrugged. “It’s going alright,” she continued. “Probably should have prepared for the third-year jump a bit more, but I’ll get through it.” She laid the cup down, commanding his attention with her dark eyes. “We missed you at the book club last week. You mentioned you were looking forwards to it, so I thought you’d be there -- everything ok?”

“Agatha and I broke up,” he said. “I didn’t want to run into her and make things awkward.”

Belle nodded in understanding. She had gone out with Agatha for a grand total of three dates at the beginning of her freshman year, and while they were friendly enough, nobody in their immediate friend group had forgotten the subsequent weeks of drama Agatha had pulled from the situation. “She didn’t make it weird, did she -- the fact that we’ve both dated her?” Belle asked. “It was three dates, two years ago -- not exactly Jeremy Kyle material.”

“No, she didn’t,” Adam said. “I just . . . it was alright for the first month, and then we both realised that we couldn’t stand each other halfway through the second -- and not in a way that could form the basis of a relationship.” He shrugged and took another swig of his coffee to try and change the conversation. 

“Still, it’s a shame you missed the book club,” Belle said lightly. “Next month we’re looking at _Romeo and Juliet_.” She smirked, sipping at her hot chocolate. 

Adam groaned, tipping his head back to properly express his frustration. “No! I am sick to death of that play!”

“Just because _you_ interpret it as horny teens behaving irresponsibly doesn’t mean _others_ of us can’t have different opinions,” Belle said, her grin widening. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “I thought we promised to never debate _Romeo and Juliet_ again, after Shakes-pocalypse 2015?”

“You’re _still_ calling it Shakes-pocalypse?” Belle’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “It was _barely_ a fight -- Cogsworth did _not_ need to call the fire department!”

They continued riffing each other throughout their coffee, happily poking at each other’s literary tastes within the defined boundaries of their friendship. It had gotten heated and ugly in the past, before Adam had mellowed out and Belle had actually listened to a differing opinion. Now, after three years of camaraderie, they cheerfully poked fun at their respective boundaries with little worries about the casualties. To the outside observer, their barbs seemed cruel; to Belle and Adam, however, they were expressions of platonic affection. 

After half an hour’s chat and laughter, Belle reluctantly pulled her laptop back up to the table. “I should really get back to work,” she said regretfully. “These reports aren’t going to write themselves. Sorry again about Agatha.”

“That’s alright,” Adam said. “It’s not like we made any plans for . . . the future . . . anyway . . .” As he spoke, his face paled in horror. Belle gave him a puzzled look, flipping her laptop back down again. 

“Adam? Are you alright?”

“I can’t believe I forgot,” he muttered, his eyes somewhere six inches above Belle’s head. “I . . . I just completely forgot that I invited her.”

“What are you talking about? Did you invite Agatha to something?”

“My uncle’s wedding,” Adam said, running a hand through his hair. “I ticked the plus-one box, back when we were still together. Except, of course, now we’re not.”

“Oh,” Belle said. “Well, I’m sure it’s not that big a deal!” she said, in an attempt to be helpful. “Just call your uncle and say things didn’t work out between you, and that he’s got an extra place now.”

Adam winced. “The last time we spoke, I _may_ have told him that I had finally settled down and was bringing somebody to the wedding. He’s been so busy that we haven’t spoken since before the breakup -- but I -- Belle, what do I do?” He dropped his hands, looking plaintively across at her. “I -- I really wanted to show him that I’ve changed from when I was just a party guy. He was there for me, growing up, and he put up with a lot of bullshit from me. And now -- I mean, it’ll just look like I haven’t changed at all -- I didn’t even tell him her _name_ , he’s going to think I made some imaginary girlfriend up to win his respect and then chickened out at the last minute --”

“I could help you out,” Belle interrupted. 

Adam froze in the middle of his freak-out, and stared Belle straight in the face. She was blushing slightly, but she didn’t look like she was making fun of him, or playing a joke. In fact, she seemed completely genuine.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I could be your girlfriend for your uncle’s wedding, if you want,” she said. “If it’s that big a deal, I’ll happily be your fake date.” 

“You -- you’d do that?” he asked. 

“You didn’t go into a lot of detail on your phone call about Agatha, right?”

“I pretty much clarified that she was a girl I met at university, we’d been dating since August, and that it was going well.”

“Great!” Belle said. Her dark eyes shimmered, the way they always did when she had a plan. “We just show up to the wedding together, say we started dating in August, and that’s it! I mean, we’ve been friends for years, so it’s not like there’ll be anything _weird_ about it.”

“Belle, I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Adam stuttered. “You’d really do this? Why?”

“Oh, for the free food,” Belle said lightly. “And I also have this really nice dress I’ve been wanting to wear.” She playfully kicked his shin under the table. “Seriously, Adam, it’s fine,” she said. 

“I . . . thank you!” he laughed. He clasped her hand. “The wedding’s in a month, is that ok?”

“Absolutely fine,” Belle said. “I don’t have anything else on.” She squeezed his hand once, and then broke away to flip her laptop back up. “Now, I really have to write this up, so . . .”

“Alright,” Adam smiled, gathering his things. “I’ll see you later.” Impulsively, he picked her hand up again and laid a kiss on it. “Until then, darling.” 

Belle laughed, as he hoped she would, and blew a dramatic kiss in his direction. “Farewell, my love,” she replied through a laugh.

Not long after Adam started walking back to the flat, his phone buzzed. 

_Belle: Not to make things weird, but we should probably at least do a couple (ha!) of couple-y things before the wedding as practice. If we got together in August, that’s coming up on three months of dating -- what’s your position on hand-holding/general pda?_

He chuckled, and typed out a reply. 

_**Adam: Not weird. Makes sense, actually -- we don’t have to make out or anything, but maybe a cheek kiss or two? And you know that I think hand-holding is the bomb.** _

_Belle: There’s a charity sale on at Central Library on Friday -- want to practice then?_

_**Adam: It’s a date :P** _

In retrospect, maybe that was the moment that things began to get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I predictable? Yes. Is this going where you think it’s going? Also yes. 
> 
> I was having trouble writing Just A Little Change, focusing too much on the 2017 characters than the 1991 ones, so I decided to roll with it and do a fake-dating fic FOR SCIENCE.
> 
> Ages have been shuffled so that Belle, Adam, Agathe (yes, I’m writing it as ‘Agatha’ in-fic because otherwise my brain refuses to work), Lumière, Plumette, Gaston, etc. are university-age students. Cogsworth’s age has yet to be decided. 
> 
> Man, Uncle Vincent is my absolute favourite ‘fanon’ character. He shows up just about everywhere and I love it.
> 
> Title is from ‘Natasha and Anatole’, from ‘Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812’, because that song and ‘The Ball’ are honestly so Belle/Adam that it hurts, if you remove references to Andrey. (Your eyes, your eyes, your eyes, ohhhhhh your eyes ……)
> 
> This was written a few weeks ago, and probably won’t be updated until the end of my semester, but I wanted it out in the world. 
> 
> Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first fake-date is taken, and Our Heroes *gasp* hold hands.

**Chapter Two**

Adam hopped off the bus, glad that the walk to the library would give him a chance to stretch his legs after the long bus ride from his and Lumière’s house. Belle had texted him earlier that morning, to confirm that they were meeting outside the front steps, and had signed off with an ironic kissing-face emoji. Adam had laughed, but declined to explain what was going on to Lumière. He regarded himself as a master matchmaker – the only problem being that he was, objectively, _terrible_ at matchmaking. He had been the one who set Adam and Agatha up in the first place, and _that_ had turned out poorly for all involved.

Adam let out a long breath, watching as the steam trailed away from his face in the cold October air. He hadn’t been to Central Library since his last semester at university, although it was easily one of his favourite places in the city. It was in the complete opposite direction to his work and house, and now that he didn’t need to study there it was hard to justify the distance – or find the time to travel there. He was glad Belle had chosen Central as their first ‘date’ – she loved the place just as much as he did, and it was nice of her to choose somewhere they both had a keen interest in. 

He turned the corner, and the small stone building came into view. It was smaller than both the university library and the western branch – both of which had been more accessible and useful to his degree – but Central’s cosy rooms and excellent selection were well worth the noise of the children who also frequented it. He could see Belle waiting outside, her navy jacket and mustard-yellow hat identifiable even from this distance. 

“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop beside her. 

“Hi,” she grinned back. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” Adam said. “Well, shall we?” he asked, offering her the crook of his elbow. Belle tucked her small hand in, squeezing his arm, and they walked up the steps to the open doors of the library.

Stepping inside, Adam drunk in the scent of paper and ink that dominated the library. It was slightly busier than usual, given the ongoing sale, but there was still a dampened hush to the cries of children playing in the small section devoted to them. Most of the people there were, like Belle and Adam, browsing the stacks of books for sale. Belle lifted her hand away from his arm, and started walking over to the nearest shelf. 

“Are you looking for anything class-wise?” Adam asked quietly. 

“No, just browsing,” Belle smiled. She glanced over at him almost shyly, which was unusual for her. Adam looked back at her, trying to figure out what was wrong, but gave up when it became clear that she was giving him nothing. He turned to the stacks as well, sticking beside her, and began systematically looking at each of the spines, from top shelf to bottom shelf. It had been his preferred way of browsing ever since he was a child, although his height made looking at the bottom shelves slightly awkward these days. 

As such, it came as a small shock when, in the midst of his concentration, Belle slipped her cold fingers into his palm. He automatically curled his hand around hers, although the act threw him for a loop. If he was honest with himself, he’d almost forgotten that they had come to the library as a practice fake-date. It was just such a normal thing to do with Belle that he hadn’t even thought about what they were _supposed_ to be doing. 

He glanced over at her again. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold air outside, but otherwise Belle looked completely normal. Adam squeezed her hand lightly, and she broke into a small smile. They stayed linked companionably together as they looked at the books, occasionally pulling one down to look at the blurb. Adam had seen a few which looked interesting, but none which sparked a burning need in him. Belle, by contrast, already had a small pile on the crook of her other elbow. She reached up for another book, causing the ones she’d already collected to wobble violently. 

“Here,” Adam huffed, taking the books out her arms and holding them himself. “If you’re going to keep picking books up, I might as well make sure you don’t cause an accident.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. She squeezed his shoulder, and they continued along the shelves. After a few minutes, Adam began to regret his offer to carry her books – Belle kept adding to the pile, and before long his arms were aching. He said nothing, however, although if he saw a book that _he_ liked he had to ask Belle to add it to the pile for him. After about half an hour, they had worked their way around almost all of the fiction and biography sections. The layout of the library meant that they were in a small corner of the stacks, hidden from view of the main floor.

“I used to sneak off here and read in this corner when I was a kid,” Adam said quietly. “It was hard to find, and the radiator there” – he gently tapped the old heater with his foot – “gave enough heat that I didn’t mind getting my fingers cold.”

Belle chuckled, a low sound. “I can picture you like that,” she said. “How old would you have been?”

“Maybe seven? My dad and I moved away when I was eight, so it was definitely before then.”

Belle hummed in agreement. She knew the bare bones of his relationship with his dad – that they had lived in the area until his mother died, moved away after that, and that Adam had moved back to live with his uncle when he was seventeen – but nothing really in-depth. Only Uncle Vincent knew everything that had happened. As far as Belle, Lumière, Plumette, and Cogsworth were aware, he just didn’t get along with his dad – and while that was true, it was nowhere near the whole truth. 

“Ah,” Belle continued, “still young and innocent, then.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Young,” Adam conceded with a grin. “But I was an . . . excitable child.”

Belle ducked her head to the ground, as if she was trying to hide a smile, and took a step closer to him. “And here I thought your ‘holy terror’ phase didn’t start until you were a teenager.”

Adam laughed again, quietly, and shifted the books in his arms a little. “This was nice,” he said lamely. “I have time for a coffee before I need to go home, if you want?”

“Sure,” Belle smiled. “That sounds nice.” She reached up to adjust her hat slightly, and her face seemed to close off as she did so. “This was a good practice, I guess. You said, uh, hand-holding and maybe a cheek kiss?”

“Yeah,” Adam said. His stomach felt like it was sinking slightly, at the reminder that this was just a practice fake-date for the wedding, which – well, it was weird, since it was why he’d come out to the library in the first place. “Is that still ok with you?”

Instead of answering with words, Belle took another step towards him so that she was well within his personal space, rose up on her toes, and pressed a quick, casual kiss to his cheek. “Fine by me, loverboy,” she smirked. 

For a moment, Adam was frozen. Only for a moment. 

“‘Loverboy’? That’s _really_ the best you could come up with?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You said hand-holding and cheek kisses, _not_ cutesy nicknames,” Belle pointed out as she (poorly, in Adam’s opinion) tried to hide her laughter. 

“Let’s just go and buy these,” Adam sighed, rolling his eyes. Belle tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow again as they walked to the checkout, where the librarian’s eyes grew wide as she took in the amount of books they were buying.

A few short minutes later, both of them were carrying bags of books in one hand down the road to the small independent cafe in town. They weren’t holding hands, even though they technically could – then again, as Adam rationalised, the fake-date portion of the afternoon had finished, and they were back to just hanging out as friends. They chatted casually about Belle’s coursework as they walked – she’d managed to finish the report she had been working on in Costa, although the practical work was still giving her a headache. They reached the cafe soon enough, and both ordered coffee. With a sigh of relief, Belle and Adam abandoned their bags to the floor and sipped at their hot drinks. 

“You wouldn’t think it’s only November, from how freezing it is outside,” Belle said after she had defrosted a little. 

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “I’m beginning to regret not wearing a hat or scarf today.”

Belle made a sympathetic sound as she sipped her coffee. “Maybe you could ask Plumette to knit you a hat.”

“Does she have the time?” he asked. “I thought the shop was beginning to get really busy now – between Halloween and Christmas, isn’t it really busy for beauticians?”

“She’s a friend, of course she’ll find the time,” Belle said. “At least, she manages to find the time for her other friends – I swear, Adam, I can’t walk two steps into her room without tripping over some yarn or stabbing my feet on a spare needle.” She took another sip, before suddenly choking on the drink and barely managing to swallow it.

“Belle?!” Adam’s hands hovered awkwardly over her back, but a swift wave told him she was fine. 

“Don’t turn around,” Belle said, her face bright red, “but Gaston just walked in.”

Immediately, Adam’s grip on his coffee cup grew stronger, and he began gritting his teeth without realising it. He didn’t turn around, as Belle had asked, but he could tell from her face that Gaston was still in the shop. 

Gaston was an ex-colleague of Belle’s from two years ago. He’d begun regularly asking her on dates and harassing her in the workplace – nothing _obvious_ , of course, but still distressing and inappropriate on Belle’s part. Her supervisor had been rather condescending about the whole matter – Belle’s fury when she retold this part of the story later on had been the first time Adam was genuinely afraid of her – but, as she said, she needed the money. It would have been – not _fine_ , but _bearable_ at least, if Gaston hadn’t taken her repeated rejections as a sign that he needed to step up his game. When he turned up on her flat doorstep (and nobody was certain how exactly he’d managed to snag Belle’s home address), she resigned from her job on the spot – but not before dumping a bucket of cold water on him from the upstairs window. None of their friend group had seen Gaston in close quarters since that incident, and none of them particularly wanted to, either.

“What do you want to do?” Adam asked quietly. “Leave? Or try not to attract his attention?”

“He’s standing in the line,” Belle breathed. “Between us and the door. I don’t think he’s –” She broke off, turning to face Adam. “Nope, he’s definitely noticed us,” she whispered. She was was quiet that even though they were next to each other, Adam could barely hear her. “I think he’s coming over.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“Hell, no,” Belle scoffed. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

“If you don’t want to talk to him, I’d be happy to extend our fake-dating endeavours towards rejecting stalker assholes,” Adam said. He could now see Gaston out the corner of his eye, and the man was definitely walking towards them. “You said he’s a meathead, right? Kind of guy who only sees boyfriends as a reason he shouldn’t pursue a girl?”

Belle let out a sharp breath through her nose, and nodded sharply. “I don’t like it, but it’s the easiest way to get rid of him.” Without turning her head, she glanced to the side, and Adam suddenly got the distinct impression of a deer trapped in the headlights. “Well?” she hissed. “Quick! Do something . . . boyfriend-y!”

With a fake smile for Gaston’s benefit, he slung his arms around Belle’s shoulders, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the place where her shoulder met her neck. She smiled back at him sheepishly, shuffling up the booth so that they were pressed together up one side. The angle was slightly awkward to keep looking at each other, but Adam was in no mood to look at Gaston and somehow telepathically project that this was an act. 

“Is he still coming?” he asked, leaning forwards and whispering in her ear. Her hair and the wool of her hat tickled his nose a little, and this close he could smell her perfume. 

“He’s paused,” Belle said. “Still looks like he might walk up.”

Adam leaned back slightly, smiled at Belle in a way that he hoped was convincing – or convincing enough for Gaston – and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was as chaste as Belle’s kiss in the library had been, a two-second meeting of lips and face, and was performed with the same casualness as hers had been. So, Adam reasoned, the only reason that Belle’s breath could have caught as he kissed her was in either relief or fear at Gaston’s next action. 

“He’s gone,” Belle said with a shaky exhale of breath. 

_Relief, then,_ Adam thought. “Sorry it had to come to that,” he said, taking away his arm from her shoulders. “That guy should really learn to take no for an answer.”

“Yeah,” Belle said, taking a sip of her drink. “Tell me about it.” She laid her cup down, and covered his hand with hers. “Seriously, though,” she said, “thanks for doing that. If it wasn’t the guy who found out where I _lived_ I would have at least _tried_ to have shut him down, but . . .”

“It’s okay,” he said, covering her hand with his other one. “I mean – the situation’s not okay – the situation’s awful, that you had to use a fake boyfriend – but I didn’t mind doing it for you. What else are friends for?”

“Yeah,” she repeated quietly. 

He squeezed her hand between his own before picking his drink back up again. But even though Gaston had been long gone by the time Adam eventually had to head back, a strange atmosphere lingered in the air between them. 

_Belle: Sorry about the other day – it just freaked me out that he was so close to where we usually hang out._

_**Adam: Not a problem, B.** _

_Belle: No, I do feel kind of bad – can we go somewhere nice instead of Costa next week? Movies? I want to make it up to you._

_**Adam: I’ve told you already, it’s fine. But if you want to go see a film, I’m not complaining. I’m working Friday and on Sunday night, so Saturday or during the day on Sunday would work best.** _

_Belle: How about Saturday? My treat?_

_**Adam: What did I ever do to deserve a fake girlfriend like you?** _

_Belle: ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, in the tradition of fake-dating, participant A decides that they must become method actors, fully inhabiting their roles. Which, of course, means kisses and casual touching. Hurrah!
> 
> The library is inspired by no library in particular – the one from Matilda springs to mind, as does my home town library. Gaston, to be honest, is inspired more by 1991 than 2017, but since he is basically sir-not-appearing-in-this-fic, I figured it didn’t make too much of a difference. Harassment is not good, and you should NEVER ask ANYBODY out when they cannot say no to you safely (e.g. one party is in customer service, and a ‘no’ would negatively impact their career). Stalking is also awful and terrifying. 
> 
> This has somehow developed into a ‘five (or maybe four who knows) times Belle and Adam said it was platonic, and one time it wasn’t’ fic. Next time: the cinema, a close encounter, and the next level of physicality.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a date to the cinema, and a flashback.

**Chapter Three**

“Where are you off to, then?” Lumière asked with genuine interest. “Finally decided Agatha’s not going to murder you if she sees you on a date with another girl? Who is it, then?”

“I’m not on a date,” Adam said, winding his scarf around his neck. “I’m going to the cinema with Belle.”

“So you have a date with Belle?” Lumière said, completely ignoring the first half of Adam’s sentence. “I knew it!” In his typical exuberant fashion, he ran over and lifted Adam off his feet into a hug. “You’ve finally realised the two of you were meant to be together!”

“Lumière,” Adam said with as much dignity as he could muster, “Belle and I are _not_ dating. We’re just going out to the cinema as friends. It’s not a date every time _we_ go to the cinemas.”

“Yes, but we don’t have sexual tension – you two do,” Lumière smirked. “I knew I was a master of romance – it may have taken you two a few years, but I was right!”

“You thought you were right about Agatha,” Adam said. Lumière scoffed loudly. “And if you’re such a ‘master of romance’, how come you haven’t gotten up the courage to ask Plumette on a date?”

“It is not a matter of lacking courage!” Lumière protested. “It is a matter of _wooing_ a lady the way she deserves.”

“Whatever you say,” Adam said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll be back later on.” 

He began walking to the bus stop, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and cheeks. It was well into November now, and if there was any doubt about the weather it had faded now. Adam wondered idly if he should take Belle’s advice and ask Plumette for a hat for Christmas; it would certainly make his head feel warmer. He paid his ticket and hopped on when the bus arrived, keeping an eye out for Belle; she’d be getting on the bus later on, and they would ride together to the cinema and back. This was also their last ‘practice date’ before the wedding, and Adam couldn’t help feeling a tad nervous. The frustrating part was that there shouldn’t have been anything to _feel_ nervous about – it was just Belle, after all. 

The next second, Belle herself was swinging into the seat next to him. “Hey,” she smiled. “How are you?”

“Good,” Adam said. He slung an arm over her shoulders without even thinking, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. His brain only caught up to his actions a second later, and his arm suddenly felt as if it had been turned to lead. This wasn’t something they had really discussed – being physically close with each other beyond holding hands. He wondered if maybe he should have been practising other kinds of affection with her, since people in a relationship had a tendency to hang over each other even when they weren’t holding hands. 

Belle, however, didn’t seem fazed by his arm over her shoulders at all. In fact, she had kept talking the whole time Adam had been freaking out, and was now looking at him with a slight frown on her face. 

“Sorry,” he said, blinking. “I think I spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I was just saying that I haven’t seen Gaston since last week.”

“Good,” Adam sighed. “I’d hate to think of him restarting the stalking again.”

“Yeah,” Belle said. She shivered, and Adam pulled her slightly closer to him in a faux-side hug. “And my mum called yesterday, so. It’s not been the worst week ever, but I could have done without some things.”

“How is she?” Adam asked carefully. 

“Fine,” Belle said. “She wanted to know if I was coming over for New Year’s. It’s her turn for it.” She scowled into her gloves.

“Is she still . . .” Adam trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question on his lips. 

“Biphobic as hell? Yeah.” Belle was still staring at her gloves. “She very carefully avoided mentioning it. And when I told her that I’d split up with Gracie since we last spoke, she just – she did this, like, fake cough? And then she brushed over it really awkwardly, and changed the subject.”

“Sorry,” Adam said, for lack of anything else to say. 

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m just – so sick of it, you know?” 

He didn’t, of course, but he knew that sometimes all he could do was be there to listen to her. 

“Papa had an adjustment period too, I know that, but – he got over it.” Belle began twisting her fingers together. “Mum’s just – she doesn’t have an excuse. She _refuses_ to accept me, and I’m just – ughh!” She threw her head back, cushioned from the hard edge of the bus seats by Adam’s arm, still around her shoulders. “So, basically, I’m not going over to hers for New Year’s this year.”

He hummed sympathetically. “Parents, right?”

“Right,” Belle said, with a hint of a laugh. 

The remaining journey to the cinema, and the subsequent purchasing of tickets, was uneventful. Before long Belle and Adam were in their seats, carefully dividing up the popcorn and drinks between the small cupholders provided by the cinema. They were up at the very back of the cinema – it had been Adam’s favourite spot since he was a kid, and in his opinion always provided the best view. The two of them chatted idly as the adverts began playing, and both turned their phones completely off; Belle had done so since childhood, and Adam had begun doing so after the fourth time at the cinema when she’d grabbed his phone to switch it off herself. 

As the lights went down, and the film finally began, Adam snuck one last glance over at Belle. Unaware of his gaze, her face had fallen slightly, and she rubbed her thumb on the side of her phone absentmindedly. _Still thinking about her mum,_ Adam thought. He gently laid his hand over hers, stilling the movement of her thumb. In the dim light provided by the movie, her eyes appeared almost black, glinting inconsistently from the screen in front of them. The corner of her mouth twitched, in what was almost a smile, and she laid her other hand on top of his, so that Adam’s hand was layered between hers. Belle turned back to the movie without moving her hands, and after a short breath, Adam did the same. 

He had known about Belle’s less than stellar relationship with her mum since they first met. It had actually been how they started talking to each other. 

It was almost three years ago to the day, now that he thought about it. Adam had been walking home from a club, closer to drunk than sober, without the money for a taxi or the patience for a bus. In his state of lowered inhibitions, he had decided that his usual shortcut across the park was perfectly appropriate for a cold November night, several hours after the sun had set, with no lamplights. 

(“The only explanation I can come up with to justify why you thought it was a good idea is because you’re a man,” Belle had said a few weeks later. “I can guarantee you that every woman in existence has been drilled as to the dangers of dark, isolated spots.”

“Then why were you there?” Adam had asked. 

“I was distraught!” Belle had laughed. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” She had laughed a second later, realising the pun she’d made, and Adam had enthusiastically high-fived her.)

After a few minutes of walking, he had come across a girl crying on a bench. Just sensible enough to realise that directly approaching her would probably distress her more, Adam had asked, “Hey, um – are you okay? Do you need any help?”

“No, no,” the girl had said, sniffing. “I’m fine. I – I should probably get back, my roommate’ll be worried about me.”

“Are you sure?” he’d asked. “I – I know this might be a bit strange, but I’d be happy to walk with you until we get to the street.” A second later, he added, “If you’d be comfortable with that.”

“I . . .” After a moment, the girl stood up, rubbing at her eyes. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

The two of them set off at a quick pace, in a silence that was more than a little awkward. “I’m Adam,” he said eventually. “I’m studying English at the university.”

“Belle,” the girl offered. “Civil Engineering.”

“Cool,” he said. The cold air was doing wonders for his mind, and he could almost feel his synapses warming up. “Are you in any halls, or are you off-campus? I’m down at Beaumont.”

“Villeneuve,” she said. “Just down the road.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Adam had turned to face her. They had made it to the street by then, and the yellow street lights cast a strange glow over her face. “Seriously, are you ok? Do you want to go to Student Services?”

“No, I’m ok. It’s not an issue with a student,” she said. “It’s . . . I came out.” She said this quickly, all in a rush of breath, darting a glance at Adam from the corner of her eyes. “My mum didn’t take it well.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam had said, at a loss. 

Belle had shrugged angrily, wiping at her eyes again. He could see her turn her phone off and stick it in her pocket. They had walked the rest of the way to Belle’s halls in silence. At the door, Adam had smiled at her again. “Will you be ok?”

“Probably,” Belle said. “Thank you for walking me back.”

“No prob, Bob,” he said stupidly. She laughed quietly, and went inside. 

Adam had gone back to Beaumont alone, trying his best not to wake up his flatmate, and had assumed he’d never see the girl again. However, they had met again at the bookclub which they both frequented even today. There had been a mutual moment of recognition – a blush from both parties – a whispered query from Adam about how she was doing, and an apology for anything stupid he’d said, given that he had been mildly drunk – and the rest, as they say, was history.

Three years of friendship later, coming out of the movie which both of them agreed had been a waste of time and money, Adam couldn’t help being thankful for the coincidence of the universe which had placed them in the same park at the same time. 

“You ready for the wedding next week?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Belle smiled. “I’m looking forwards to seeing your uncle – I don’t think I’ve met him before? Maybe at your graduation, but that was a really busy day.”

“You maybe did,” Adam said, trying to remember. “He’s really easy-going, he won’t be offended if you forgot.” 

“Cool,” Belle said. “What’s happening with travel? Bus, train?”

“It’s quicker if I just drive us there,” he said. “I’ll pick you up Friday night? The wedding itself is on a Saturday, so if we maybe stay over and drive back Sunday morning?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Belle said. 

On the bus back home, Adam put his arm around Belle again. He didn’t even have the excuse of acting without thinking this time – he just wanted to feel close to her. “Think we make a convincing couple?” he whispered in her ear, low enough that he was certain nobody else could hear.

Belle snorted. “Yeah, I think we do,” she said, picking up his hand. “Dearest darling, light of my life, fire of my soul, there is nothing I do love so well as you.” The effect was spoiled somewhat by the laughter she couldn’t quite prevent spilling out – and Belle had a rather infectious laugh. When the two of them had eventually calmed down, she laid her head gently on his shoulder, still holding his hand. Adam tightened his arm around her slightly, letting her body heat sink into his. Belle let out a little sigh of contentment, and Adam suddenly felt a strange ache in his heart, and a pit in his stomach.

 _It’s nothing,_ he told himself. _We’re just friends being close. Just friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, folks, but the next two will definitely be packed.
> 
> I wanted to have Belle’s mum be divorced from Maurice in this verse purely because I killed her off in my other modern au (Behind A Fair Façade), and felt like being different.
> 
> Next time: We meet Uncle Vincent! We meet Uncle Vincent’s fiancé! We meet various other 2017 cast members! And . . . there’s only one bed?? What to do??
> 
> Also, in case people weren’t aware, I’m accepting Yuletide prompts for 2017, 1991, and modern versions of these characters! Send me a PM/leave a comment and I’ll do my best to complete a prompt!
> 
> TheTeaIsAddictive


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief discussion of emotional abuse towards the end. the contents of said abuse are not described.

**Chapter Four**

“Wow,” Belle said. “Your uncle’s house is, like, huge.”

“You see why they’re having the wedding at home,” Adam said, as they went up the driveway. He glanced around for parking – more out of good driving habits than because he actually needed to look. He had driven to Uncle Vincent’s more times than he could count, and his path to the parking spot was practically muscle memory. “He didn’t see the point in spending money on a hotel when the house is big enough for everybody staying over, and Chapeau agreed, so . . .”

“A man of sense – both of them,” Belle said. “I can appreciate that.”

Adam laughed. “I’m not sure that ‘sensible’ and ‘my uncle’ belong together in the same sentence,” he said as he killed the engine. “Chapeau is about 85% of his impulse control. I’m pretty sure Uncle Vincent and I wouldn’t have gone on that Extreme Outdoors Course a few years ago if they’d been together then.” The course in question had been decidedly shady in nature, but it had still taken embarrassingly long for Adam and Vincent to realise they had been scammed – and even longer for Chapeau, at that time only Vincent’s friend, to stop bringing it up when he wanted to win an argument.

As he and Belle stepped out the car and picked up their bags, the front door of the house opened. Uncle Vincent stepped out – a tall man in his late fifties with the same bright eyes as his nephew, although he wore his long auburn hair in a ponytail which would have been ridiculous on any other man his age. “Adam!” he cried, walking down with arms outstretched for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Vincent,” Adam smiled, leaning fully into the embrace. It seemed like only a few months ago that his uncle towered over him – in reality, Vincent and Adam had been the same height for years now. “How are you?” he asked, picking his back back up. “Nervous?”

“Not yet,” Vincent smiled. “And this must be the famous girlfriend,” he said, walking down to shake Belle’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. “We met at Adam’s graduation, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Mr. Smythe,” Belle said with a charming smile, shaking his hand warmly.

“Please, Vincent is fine,” he said. “We’ll have to have a proper chat at some point, since we didn’t fit it in at graduation. I may only be a humble shop manager,” he continued, leading the two of them into the house, “but the processes of engineering has always been interesting to me. Can I ask why you chose that course of study?”

“I’ve always been interested in how things were made,” Belle said, moving slightly in front of Adam so that Vincent could still hear her. “My dad used to make music boxes, and I’d help him with the gears and construction. He got me an engineering toy kit when I was eleven, and my interest never really went away.”

Vincent hummed with interest as he took it in, leading them up some wide stairs and down a long hallway. “And so you two met . . . ?”

Belle’s face paled slightly, and Adam quickly stepped in. “It was at the book club,” he said. “We had a few differences of opinion on _Great Expectations_ , and you know how much I like to debate.”

Vincent laughed at the joke, coming to a stop outside what had been Adam’s room when he had lived there. “I’m well aware, Adam. Frankly, I’m surprised she put up with you.”

“Well . . .” Belle drew out the word, breaking into a chuckle. “Let’s say I was a lot more abrasive back then than I am now. We were a match for each other.”

“I see,” he said. “And – if I can ask this – when did you two decide to start seeing each other?”

“August,” Adam said. “You knew that already, Uncle Vincent.”

“I mean, what changed?” he asked. “After so long being just friends?”

Adam froze. In the entire three weeks they had been planning this, neither he nor Belle had thought that Vincent would _ask_ why they had gotten together after years of friendship. It was the one thing that Adam hadn’t prepared for at all, and it was going to be the thread that ripped out the whole blanket’s worth of work.

“Well,” Belle said before the silence grew suspiciously long, “it just kind of hit me one day that, well, I really liked him.” Adam turned to look at her in surprise, but she kept talking steadily.  “And of course I felt like an idiot for not saying anything before graduation, when it would have been easier to see each other at university every few days.” She began to blush, and met Adam’s gaze. “So one day I gathered up my courage and just . . . asked him.” With her free hand, she linked their fingers together.

“And I said yes,” Adam said, squeezing them gently. Her eyes seemed to darken slightly at the pressure.

“I’m glad you two worked it out,” Vincent said. Adam jumped slightly – he had almost forgotten that his uncle was there. “If you just leave your bags in Adam’s old room for now, and you can unpack later – Chapeau would love to meet you, too, Belle. I’ll give you two a minute to refresh yourselves – everything should be where you remember it, Adam. Oh, and make sure to say hello to Matteo and Giovanna. They’ve been here for a few days, but they’re looking forwards to seeing you.”

“Yes, Uncle Vincent,” Adam sing-songed dutifully, hefting his and Belle’s bags into his room. “Well,” he said as Belle let the door shut behind them. “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. And thanks for covering for me with the get-together story. I’m so sorry that I didn’t think about it at all.”

“It’s fine,” Belle said, looking around his room with interest. Although his personal belongings were all in the flat with Lumière, the colour scheme, bedsheets, and general layout of the room hadn’t changed since Adam moved out when he was nineteen. “Finally put those creative ideas in my head into real-world use, huh?” she laughed.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. And then, because his brain had been constantly frazzled around Belle ever since that practice date at the cinema, and it was a miracle something friendship-ruining hadn’t come shooting out of his mouth between then and now, he added, “You’re a good actress.”

“Ha,” Belle laughed, a short and sharp expulsion of breath.

The air between them was instantly uncomfortable, but Adam didn’t know how to fix it. He hadn’t said anything strictly untrue, and Belle hadn’t responded in a way that was strictly negative. But she was taking off her jacket and scarf instead of joking with him about that _one_ time with the drama club, or pretending to come up with ludicrous get-together stories for the wedding guests. “I guess,” she said eventually, pulling her hair out of its tight ponytail and running her fingers through it. “Oh – who are Matteo and Giovanna? Friends of your uncle’s?”

“No,” Adam said, stripping off his own jacket. “They’re my godparents. They were housemates with my mum, back when they were all at uni together. Haven’t seen them since I was about fifteen, though – they stay in Italy most of the time.”

“Ah, cool,” Belle said. “I guess we should go and see them, then?” She walked past him to the door; again, without thinking, Adam reached out and grabbed her hand. She turned to look at him.

“Belle . . . are we still okay?” he asked. “Because this is a huge favour you’re doing me, and if you’re at all uncomfortable with it, it’s totally fine if you don’t want –”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek – not with the affectionate sarcasm of the library or the necessity of the coffee shop. Probably just for practice. “It’s fine,” Belle said. “Now come on, let’s go.”

Once she wasn’t looking at him anymore, Adam allowed himself to run the pads of his fingers very lightly over the spot where she had kissed him. He shook his head. Probably nothing. After all, this was an exercise undertaken because of their friendship. Jeapordizing it would be ridiculous.

* * *

 

Matteo and Giovanna were as exuberant as ever, pulling Adam down into a tight hug as soon as they saw him.

“It’s ridiculous, how much you’ve grown!” Giovanna said. “Vincent said you were as tall as he was, but that had to be an exaggeration!” She ruffled his hair ruefully, and Adam flushed red. “The last time I saw you, you barely reached Matteo’s shoulders, and now —“

“Giovanna, don’t embarrass him too much in front of Belle,” Vincent had the grace to say eventually. “He’s still trying to convince her that we’re halfway normal.”

“Ah!” Giovanna gasped, turning to Belle and seizing her by the arms. “Finally, a woman!”

“I —“ Belle started, but Giovanna continued talking as she was wont to do.

“Vincent and Chapeau tell me all about the girlfriends Adam brings over, but does he introduce them to Matteo or I? No! We are kept in the dark! And now, finally, he brings a woman along for us to meet!”

Belle laughed at Giovanna’s melodramatics, as did everybody else, and returned the hug that she was pulled into. Adam covered his eyes with his fingers, in an attempt to get over the supreme embarrassment of his godmother.

“It’s lovely to meet you, too,” Belle laughed. “Adam said you live in Italy — I’d love to visit the country someday! What’s it like where you stay?”

Giovanna instantly drew Belle over to the nearest couch, and talked her ear off for the next half an hour about her home country. From what Adam could hear, Belle was just as enthusiastic about the possibility of visiting.

“Adam, can you help me?” Matteo asked. “It’s about the sound systems for tomorrow; I need somebody to run back and forth with the wires.”

“No problem, Matteo,” Adam smiled. He left for what used to be a ballroom, and worked quietly with his godfather. “Nervous?” he asked. “I heard that you and Giovanna are performing an original for Uncle Vincent and Chapeau.”

“Not really,” Matteo said. “I’m just ready for your uncle to finally let himself be happy.”

Adam hummed in agreement, before picking up the connecting wires between Matteo’s keyboard and the sound system.

“You should let yourself be happy, too,” Matteo said. “Belle is a special girl.”

“I —“ Adam started, before realising that Matteo’s assumption was exactly why he’d brought Belle with him this weekend. “Thank you,” he said instead. “I _am_ happy, with her.”

“It shows on your face, when you think she isn’t looking,” Matteo said. “But as soon as she looks at you, it’s like your guard is up.”

“Matteo –”

“What’s between you and your girlfriend is none of my business,” he said, sitting down at the piano for a test. “But if you feel like you need to hide some of your feelings, I’d talk to her about it.” Adam nodded, his stomach churning slightly, as Matteo played the opening few bars of the aisle music. “Perfecto,” he said. “Everything is ready for tomorrow. I suppose we should go back; all of us need an early night.”

By the time Adam and Matteo arrived back in the living room, Belle looked positively relieved to have an excuse to leave. The five of them – Chapeau was apparently hidden away in the study, practising a violin piece which was supposed to be a surprise for Vincent – headed their separate ways to bed.

“Your godmother is lovely,” she whispered as they retraced their steps to the bedroom. “She’s just –”

“Full on?” Adam chuckled. “You get used to it.”

Belle smiled. “Oh!” she gasped, stopping mid-stride to look at a picture hanging on the wall. “Who’re these people?”

Adam followed her gaze, and tried to suppress the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Me and my mum,” he said flatly.

For once, Belle ignored his tone, busy looking at the photo. It was one of the last pictures of them as a family, before his mother died and everything fell apart. She was sitting in her own bed, the medication just visible in the poor lighting of the photo, holding Adam in her arms. He had been asleep when the photo was taken, and had only agreed to having it put up because you couldn’t see any embarrassing faces he was making. His father had been in the original picture, looming haggardly in the corner. After Adam had told Vincent about his home life, his father had been cropped out; now only the very edge of his shoe remained, unnoticeable to anybody except somebody looking for it.

“Oh,” Belle said. “Where are you? I can see your mother, but –”

“The yellow on her chest is the top of my head,” Adam said. “You can see the rest of me under the blanket.”

Her eyes followed the path he had traced, and he heard her chuckle lightly. “It’s sweet,” she said. “Unusual hair colour,” she said. “Her hair is dark, but her eyebrows are – almost blonde.”

“It was a wig,” he said. “She’d lost her hair by then, and she didn’t have any eyebrows.”

Belle turned back to him, her eyes dark and wide. “Adam, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine,” he said. “She used to say she’d always wanted to change her hair, but never had the courage.” He looked for another moment, before snagging Belle’s hand. “Come on,” he said, and she followed him back to the room.

“Adam . . .” she said, once they were inside and the door was shut.

“It’s fine, Belle,” he said. “You didn’t know. And I’m not offended.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “But that’s not what I meant.” She gestured at his old bed, a double. “What are we doing about sleeping arrangements?”

“I assumed I’d be sleeping on the floor,” he said. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I should have asked Uncle Vincent for another room, actually, but I forgot, and I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Belle said. “It can’t be comfortable – or warm, come to think of it.”

“Belle, that’s nice of you, but –”

“We’re both adults,” she said, although she was definitely blushing. “It’s a busy day tomorrow, and getting a bad night’s sleep won’t help anyone. I’m not weirded out if you’re not.” She looked him steadily in the eye. It was strange, but Adam felt as if he was on the very precipice of something, and that if he chose wrong then he and Belle would never be the same. The strangest part was that it seemed as if Belle was aware of that fact as well.

“Alright,” he said, puffing out a breath. “Thanks for . . . a comfortable sleep, I guess.” She grinned at his poorly attempted humour, as he hoped she would. “You take the bathroom first?” he asked. In answer, Belle picked up her pyjamas and washbag, and hopped across the hall.

To his surprise, it wasn’t weird. It wasn’t weird when Belle came back from the bathroom, her face scrubbed clean of makeup and wearing an old t-shirt. It wasn’t weird when he came back from his own mini-pilgrimage, and saw her settled at one side of the bed, reading from the lamplight on the bedside table. And it wasn’t weird when they turned off their lights and settled down, facing away from each other and not touching. It was as if it was all part of a familiar routine, one which was achingly domestic and gentle.

And _that_ was weird.

Adam could hear Belle breathing rhythmically in the dark silence. His own breathing seemed heavy and loud and harsh in comparison. He shifted in the bed, stretching his legs out in an effort to get rid of all the kinks, when his toes came into contact with a block of ice. He yelped, and Belle gasped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s my feet!”

“I’m the one who moved, so it’s my fault, but – sheesh, Belle, are they blocks of ice? What’s up with that?”

“Bad circulation. Blame it on my grandad, he’s always got cold fingers and toes.”

“Well, I will.”

Belle giggled quietly. She pressed her cold feet against his calves, letting his body heat warm her toes.

“For the record, I now hate you. You’re officially dumped from the fake girlfriend position.”

“No! We were doing so well!”

“...”

“...”

“Ready for tomorrow?”

“Got my alarm set, my dress hanging up to minimise creasing, and youtube tutorials bookmarked for my hair. What about you?”

“I think so. It’s weird – when I was a kid, there would be weddings every summer when some distant cousins got married. After a while I thought I was done with family weddings – until the next generation start, of course. So it’s kind of weird, but nice, too. It’s a shame you didn’t meet Chapeau tonight – he doesn’t say much, but you’d like him.”

“Alright.” A sigh. “Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to, but . . . is your dad coming tomorrow?”

His heart rate rose. “No.”

“Okay.” He could hear Belle shuffle around a little – maybe pulling the duvet closer, judging from the movement in his side of the cover.

“He – it took a while to realise, but –”

“Adam, I meant it. You don’t have to tell –”

“I want to.”

“...”

“...”

“If you want to.”

“After my mum died . . . something changed. He wasn’t the same dad I remembered. I thought it was normal to hate my life, because I was a teenager by the time it got serious.”

“Adam . . .”

“He never hit me.” Tears, again, and he’s not one for toxic masculinity if he can help it, but he should be over crying for the man by now. “He – he never hit me, but the things he said –”

Belle moved her feet away from his legs, rolling over in one smooth motion to wrap an arm around his waist, her hand landing in the centre of his chest. He could feel her nose, also cold, press against the base of his neck. With the hand not currently trapped under his own body, Adam covered Belle’s hand on his chest. For a long moment, that could have been seconds or minutes, he merely accepted the comfort she was offering him.

Eventually, the tears passed, and his heart was back at a normal, steady pace. He could feel where they were pressed together – chest to back, knees inside knees, her ice-block toes just touching his heels – and relaxed, ever so slightly. He didn’t particularly want Belle to move, but neither did he want to keep her in an uncomfortable position.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. “You can move, if you want to.”

Belle took a breath. “Okay,” she said. She didn’t move.

“Okay,” he replied. Unexpectedly – or maybe, he realised, not so unexpectedly, if he’d been paying attention to his own feelings for the past week – he relaxed into her hold, a small smile creeping over his face.

The last thought Adam had before slipping into a restful, dreamless sleep was, _I am in so much trouble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Sup! Sorry for the delay, but Christmas + writer’s block = not much time for this. I can only hope that the bed-sharing scene met everyone’s expectations and more.
> 
> Vincent is, yes, basically modelled after the 1991 Prince. Who is marrying Chapeau from the live-action film – listen sometimes I just get ideas and run with them. Matteo and Giovanna (if it wasn’t clear) are Cadenza and Garderobe. We’ll see Chapeau next time.
> 
> Next time: A wedding! A dance sequence! The consequences of Adam realising he maybe possibly has feeling for Belle!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author _realises_ it's been six months, but promised to finish this story and by god _will_ deliver on her promises.

**Chapter Five**

Even though the curtains were normally dense and good at keeping out the sun, Adam woke up the next morning to the sensation of bright light near his eyes. With a low groan, muffled somewhat by his pillow, he felt himself come slowly to full consciousness.

“Morning,” Belle said quietly, from somewhere remarkably near his ear.

Adam’s eyes shot open. The light that had woken him was Belle’s phone, although he could see sunlight streaming in from underneath the curtains further into the room. Belle herself was tucked neatly into his side, her temple level with his chin. At some point in the night they must have moved around, as Adam was now on his front, his arm slung carelessly over Belle’s waist. Their legs were entwined under the covers, and after a moment he realised that he was also lying on top of Belle’s left arm.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, pushing himself up by his forearms so that Belle’s arm was free, and his was no longer pinning her to his body. “I didn’t realise I’d trapped you.”

“You were asleep,” Belle smiled. “It wasn’t intentional.” She reclaimed her arm, before sitting up in bed and stretching. Adam sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “So, remind me what the plan is for today?”

“Breakfast quick as we can, because Uncle Vincent _will_ get into a last-minute panic even though there’s no reason for it. Matteo and Giovanna are the only ones who can calm him down – well, apart from Chapeau, of course, but he’s supposed to stick to the east side of the house until the ceremony.”

“They’re doing the ‘don’t see the –’ well, ‘the groom’ thing?” Belle asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uncle Vincent likes tradition,” Adam shrugged. “So, eat as quick as we can and escape back up here so we can both get dressed. The ceremony starts at three, so I need to be with my uncle at quarter past two, and you can go and sit down about . . . quarter to three? Most of the guests who aren’t already here will start arriving at about quarter past, but since you won’t know most of them you don’t have to be there from the start.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

“The ceremony itself is only like thirty minutes, but the whole thing’ll probably take an hour – I don’t know the details, but I think there’s usually a sermon and hymns,” Adam said, counting out the hours on his fingers. “Photographs, greeting everybody . . . wedding breakfast should start at about five p.m., I think – some people can’t make it to the ceremony.”

“That’s a pretty normal thing.”

“Wedding breakfast and cutting the cake, and then _my_ big moment with the speech,” Adam winked. “Dancing should start at eight, since Matteo and Giovanna are providing the music. Uncle Vincent said to me that he and Chapeau are planning to leave for the hotel at eleven – don’t ask me,” Adam said at Belle’s raised eyebrows, “I don’t _know_ why they’re leaving for a hotel if they’re having the entire rest of the wedding at home, but they _are_ , maybe so they don’t have to worry about missing the train for their honeymoon – and you, me, Matteo and Giovanna collapse in a heap at about one in the morning tomorrow after shooing the other guests away and shoving some dishes in the dishwasher and the sink.”

“I think I got all of that,” Belle said. “I guess we should get started, then? Breakfast, you see your uncle – I’ll take a shower, if that’s ok – and we meet back here in . . . an hour?”

“Probably,” Adam shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t need to _be_ anywhere until quarter past two, so we’ve got plenty time.”

“Cool,” Belle said, throwing the covers back from her legs and swinging them down to the floor. “Let’s get going, then.”

* * *

Contrary to Adam’s expectations of a slow start, the morning of Vincent’s wedding flew by so quickly he almost got whiplash. Breakfast with Matteo and Giovanna had been slow and sleep, as expected; however, his phone had started buzzing after fifteen minutes as his uncle had begun non-stop texting him with last-minute panics. Adam had left the table full of apologies to try and calm Vincent, who was pacing around his bedroom in pyjamas and in the middle of shaving. Promising coffee and toast in exchange for his uncle shaving and promising not to accidentally cut himself open in the process, Adam had reappeared downstairs to the sounds of chatter and laughter. Chapeau had been in the kitchen, the coffee pot on and two slices of toast in the machine, smiling and nodding at the well-wishes everybody gave him.

“Thank you, Chapeau,” Adam had said. “I swear, it’s like you’ve got a psychic link to what he needed.”

“Well, I _am_ marrying him this afternoon,” Chapeau had said with a wry smile.

To Adam’s surprise, Belle had also smiled at him and grabbed at his hand before he went back upstairs, giving it a gentle press. He hadn’t seen her again all morning, as he had been cooped up with Vincent – first to calm him down enough to eat _something_ , and then to reminisce with him as they got dressed (Matteo had brought Adam’s toiletries and suit bag over after 1 pm, when it became clear that he wasn’t leaving his uncle anytime soon).

“Do you remember the first time you wore a suit?” Vincent chuckled as he steamed his jacket one last time at 14:15, trousers on and shirt hanging neatly from a wire hanger by the bed. “And despite wearing a tie as part of your uniform, you had no idea how to tie one?”

“I do!” Adam laughed. “That was for . . . the Year 11 Christmas dance, wasn’t it? You had to tie it for me – and in my defense, Uncle Vincent, I never actually untied the school tie, so I only loosened and tightened it every day.”

Vincent laughed again. “You don’t need help tying it _now_ , do you?”

“ _No,”_ Adam said, gesturing to tie already around his neck. “Are you _sure_ you don’t need my help with the ironing?”

“I appreciate the gesture, Adam, but I’d rather do it myself,” he said. Adam sat down on the bed. Although he wanted to do something for his uncle on his wedding day, he couldn’t deny that there was a certain homely familiarity to the arrangement. Many times, when Adam was a teenager, he’d sat on the sofa while Vincent ironed, talking about what had happened that day. It was the one household chore Vincent had never trusted him with – or so he said, anyway. There was something comforting about the continuance of this practice to Adam, and he suspected that his uncle felt the same way.

“Not long now,” Vincent said as he hung his jacket up. He swung the shirt down and began buttoning it up, his fingers calm and practised. “I do wish Sonya was still here, though.” Adam looked up with a start, his mouth dropping open slightly. “You know, even when we were kids, she always said I’d be the old bachelor of the family. And look at me now.”

“Uncle Vincent . . .” he said. “I –”

His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a painful thought, Adam,” he said. “In fact, I rather think that if she was still with us, my sister would be rather useless at this point, running around like a headless chicken.”

Adam chuckled. The sting had gone out of his mother’s death years ago, and while he couldn’t make jokes about her the same way as Vincent did, he couldn’t deny that he was right. Sonya Smythe had been obsessively neat where her brother was slapdash, and uptight where he was relaxed. Despite their differences, they had never fought that much, even as teenagers. “Maybe,” Adam agreed. “But come on, Uncle Vincent – we need to get the boutonnieres and cufflinks on, and I think Giovanna might _actually_ murder you if you crush her flowers by mistake.”

Vincent obligingly held out his wrists as Adam fiddled with the metal, before returning the favour. While Adam gave the boutonnieres one last spritz of the water mister, Vincent pulled his hair back into a ponytail with a plain elastic band. “Wait!” Adam said. He rummaged around in his small bag for a moment, before triumphantly producing a plain royal-blue ribbon. “I . . . I found this in my memory box. I thought you might like to have it to tie your hair back. You know, something old, borrowed, and blue all in one. And it’s something of Mum’s, too. Do you want it?”

“I . . . of course,” Vincent said, running his fingers over the ribbon. “Do the honours?” He ducked so that his head was at a more convenient height, and Adam tied the ribbon into a neat bow, carefully hiding all traces of the elastic. He stood, straightened his jacket, and looked at the clock. “Well,” he said with a nervous smile, “how do I look?”

“Great,” Adam grinned.

“Then let’s go,” Vincent said, cocking his arm out. Adam folded his hand into the crook of his uncle’s elbow and led him downstairs towards the room where the ceremony was to be held. _And not a moment too soon,_ he thought; he could hear Giovanna and Matteo playing the last of their pre-ceremony repertoire.

“Thank you for walking me down here,” Vincent whispered during the – rather numerous –  seconds of applause that the performances had produced. “You still want to walk me down the aisle?”

“As long as you’re happy to have me there,” he responded.

“Of course I am!” Vincent hissed as the sound of clapping died away. “You’re my family and I love you, Adam.”

He shushed his uncle hurriedly as a hush fell over the congregation. He heard the officiator say, “If we could all be upstanding . . .” and the combined scrape and grind of a hundred-something guests pushing back their chairs.

“Ready to begin the rest of your life?” Adam whispered.

“Yes,” Vincent whispered back.

Matteo struck up his next song on the piano; the doors swung open, and Vincent and Adam began to walk down the aisle. The smiling faces of the guests turned to them, as Adam attempted to keep pace with the music – Vincent seemed to be itching to get down the aisle. He smiled and nodded at a few guests as he passed them, recognising the odd face from old family get-togethers and photographs that Chapeau had shared over the years.

The room itself had been feverishly decorated since last night when Adam had set up the sound system; dramatic spurts of ivy and ribbons festooned, while the curtains had been parted to show the snow that had fallen overnight. A few stalks of irises provided a pleasing contrast to the evergreen foliage, and toned in nicely with Vincent’s blue suit. As they drew closer to the altar, Adam caught Chapeau’s eye for the first time. He was wiping away a tear, and grinned half-bashfully at Adam as they approached. Chapeau wore a suit in dark, jewelled green tones; and although he appeared the picture of calm, he could just see his toes tapping nervously on the carpet.

Eventually, they reached the front of the room. Adam hugged his uncle quickly, clasped Chapeau on the arm, and left them to sit in the front row – where, to his surprise, Belle was also sitting. He’d been so focused on getting his uncle safely down the aisle that he hadn’t been consciously looking out for her, and as he carefully took his seat, he drunk in her appearance. Her hair was pinned half-up, half-down, with gold earrings and a tree necklace around her neck, but those modest accessories only suited her dress the more. It was a deep golden colour, that brought out the copper strands in her hair and – as he noticed when she met his gaze – the amber flecks in her eyes. Simply cut, and as appropriate for a wedding as a graduation, Adam felt his heart leap oddly in his chest.

“Hi,” she grinned as they sat down. “You look good. Brings out your eyes.”

“Oh, thank you,” Adam said. He hadn’t given much thought to how his eyes would look in his wedding clothes, being more concerned that he didn’t clash with his uncle. “Yours, too. You weren’t kidding when you said it was really nice – kind of the understatement of the century, if you ask me.”

Belle ducked her head as she tried to stifle a laugh, a pale blush colouring the tops of her cheeks. The minister began to read out the marriage ceremony, and he felt Belle’s pinky brush his hand. On instinct, he moved to hold her hand properly. When she squeezed it gently, his heart seemed to move at the same time.

And only then, at the least convenient moment possible, did Adam realise that he had fallen in love with his fake girlfriend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVE
> 
> No jokes (well, apart from that first one) but I have been SO busy it’s not true. Hopefully my time management will improve next semester so that you won’t have to wait *checks email* er . . . six months. Uh . . . woops??
> 
> I googled wedding timetables ages ago and the rough template I mentioned is typical of most wedding’s I’ve been to. Gay marriage was legalised in England (where this story takes place) in 2013, and since I’ve only been to one secular wedding, I just went with what I was familiar with (i.e. church weddings that last at least an hour, because of the sermon, hymns, and prayers).
> 
> Next time: A ballroom dance. And possibly the end of this freaking story, who knows. I promise it won’t take six months this time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle and Adam finally get their shit together.

**Chapter Six**

The wedding breakfast had ended and was just beginning to digest when Giovanna began to call, “Speech! Speech!”

Adam glanced over at his uncle. Traditionally, the bride’s father was supposed to begin the wedding speeches, followed by the groom and best man. As he had walked Vincent down the aisle, but had also served as best man (Chapeau had been followed down the aisle by a best woman; his friend Beatrice, who had her own speech prepared) he was unsure of the proper order of things. At an encouraging nod from his uncle, however, Adam stood up and tapped his fork against his glass, so that it rang out loud and clear. The general noise and hubbub of the room settled down as all eyes fell to him – including Belle’s eyes, from her spot beside Matteo in the general seated area. A small, encouraging smile lit her face, and Adam took a breath. She winked, and he suddenly forgot to be nervous about fumbling with the cue cards – instead, he grinned and winked right back at her. He was gratified by a quick rush of colour to her cheeks, before he straightened up and began his speech in earnest.

“On behalf of my uncle and his husband –” and here he paused for the inevitable cheering that followed such a statement, “– I’d like to thank you all for coming today,” Adam started. “I’m pulling double-duty as Uncle Vincent’s best man, so I’ll keep this speech short and sweet.” It got the chuckle he had been hoping for, and Adam moved so that he could address the guests and the grooms at the same time. “Some of you may not know who I am – for those who don’t, my name is Adam. Yes,  _ that _ Adam,” he chuckled at some of the looks of consternation fluttering over the older guests. “Believe me, I’ve changed. No way would Uncle Vincent let me up here if I hadn’t.” Another rumble of laughter, although it was shorter this time.

“If you know who I am, you probably know that Uncle Vincent took me in when I was seventeen, after I hit a bit of a rough patch. Now, at the time I was  _ soundly _ ungrateful for everything he did for me, but I’ve learned and matured a bit by now. And I can say without a doubt that my uncle,” Adam said, looking Vincent straight in the eyes, “is one of the kindest, best men I’ve ever known. He was there for me when no one else was. He taught me many things – some morals, some household tasks, and how to tie a tie – but the most important thing he ever taught me was something that I don’t think he ever consciously thought to teach. It just shone through everything he did, without ever needing to be highlighted. He taught me the importance of love.” Adam paused, willing the sudden lump that had formed in his throat to die down. He saw Vincent wipe at his eyes discreetly. “And it seems only fitting that after six years of giving such concentrated, powerful love to me, Uncle Vincent finally gets some of that concentrated love back.

“Chapeau,” he continued, “you are so good for him. You even each other out in ways I didn’t notice until you had been here for years. And the kindest thing you ever did was taking me into your heart as easily as you took my uncle, without ever once asking me if I was worth it or not. My grandparents and my mother are no longer with us, but may I stand as representative of this family, to welcome you here with open arms?”

Chapeau nodded, his nose and eyes bright red. Vincent smiled at Adam, and uncle and nephew shared a look which all loving family members exchange at some time in their lives.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other guests.” Adam raised his glass. “Vincent and Chapeau!” The crowd echoed his toast, and everybody took a sip of their champagne. As he sat back down, Adam leaned over to his uncle. “Was that alright, Uncle Vincent?” he asked in a low voice.

“It was lovely, Adam,” he replied, squeezing his hand.

The rest of the speeches, funny and moving as they were, comparatively flew by for Adam as he listened to them. The most anxiety-inducing part of the evening was over, which now meant it was time for the second most anxiety-inducing part of the evening – talking to Belle about how things had changed for him.

It felt . . . wrong, somehow, to continue the charade when he’d suddenly gained feelings for her – no, not gained;  _ realised _ feelings for Belle. Adam ran his mind back over the past few weeks.  _ He _ hadn’t realised it until that afternoon, but clearly his subconscious had figured it out first, based on all the physical contact he’d been initiating without a second thought. He knew he had to tell Belle as soon as possible that things had changed. The rules had changed in a single, indescribable instant.

Vincent and Chapeau headed out to the hall to talk to their guests, while Adam, Belle, Matteo, and Giovanna quickly began to clear the tables away to make room for dancing. More than once, Adam caught himself just looking at Belle as she laughed and stacked chairs. Luckily for him, she didn’t seem to notice that he was looking at her more than usual. Matteo, on the other hand, had to cough pointedly several times, as Adam would stand in the middle of the floor, shirtsleeves rolled up, one of the tables in his arms. He always flushed and moved along whenever he noticed Matteo’s impatience, although it was of a fond kind. Despite Adam’s distraction, the floor was eventually cleared, and the guests piled back in as Matteo and Giovanna took their places onstage.

Adam dimmed the lights as Vincent and Chapeau began their first dance. It was a light, up-tempo piece that had evidently been choreographed by someone, and the crowd soon began clapping (slightly off-tempo, in the way of crowds) to the beat. Beside him, Belle smiled and cheered with the rest of the wedding guests as the new husbands kissed at the end of the dance. After a moment’s pause, Giovanna and Matteo began their set for the evening, and more people took to the dancefloor. The first few songs were upbeat, and Adam either danced alone or as part of a larger group, keenly aware of Belle’s position relative to his own wherever he went.

“Alright, everybody,” Giovanna said after about half an hour’s worth of music, “it’s time to couple off and come to the dance floor for the waltz. Here to join me singing is Chapeau’s best woman, Beatrice Potts.”

Among the cheers of the guests as Beatrice made her way to the stage, Adam turned to Belle. “Would you like to dance, milady?” he asked, holding his hand out.

Although he hadn’t expected a refusal, the feeling of Belle’s warm hand in his own still sent a jolt straight to his stomach. “Of course, milord,” she smiled.

They led each other to the dance floor, which was empty besides two or three other couples – the fast-paced songs had worn many of the guests out for the time being. To Adam’s surprise, Belle lowered into a curtsey as Matteo began to play; not the mocking play at gentility that they had engaged in a moment ago, but a genuine expression. The look on her face as she rose up and met his eyes stole a little of his breath. If he wasn’t completely mistaken . . . Adam shook the thought off as he bowed in turn, before taking her hand and placing one hand on her upper back.

Belle locked eyes with him as she deliberately moved his hand down to her waist, before resting her hand on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her fingers on his skin through the thin material of his shirt, and his hand still burned where she had touched it as she lowered it. They began to waltz carefully, as Beatrice and Giovanna sang. He hadn’t danced like this with a girl since the Leaver’s Ball in sixth form, but Adam soon found the muscle memory allowed him to steer Belle around the room with ease. As such, he was free to look into her eyes, which sparkled as it caught the low light around them. Her lips curled into another smile, and burst into a short laugh when he spun her out suddenly.

When they reconnected, they were much closer together than they had been before. Belle’s hand was looped around his neck, his own pressing into the small of her back, and they were practically chest to chest. Although Belle still smiled, it was tempered by a gasp as she realised how close they were dancing. “Knight in shining armour, much?” she whispered.

“I try,” he shrugged. “Want to try a dip?”

“If I fall flat on my arse, I’m blaming you,” Belle laughed quietly.

Purely by coincidence, the music swelled as he dipped her. Belle extended her arm behind her as she let her head fall back, forming one long, elegant line from jaw, to neck, to fingertip. Her dress glowed against her skin, her sparse jewellery suddenly catching the light; the sight took his breath away. The atmosphere between them wobbled dangerously as she lifted her head back up to meet his eyes. Adam had no idea what his face was expressing – all he knew was that he wanted to kiss her, badly. Instead, he said, “Hold on,” in a hoarse whisper.

In one swift movement he took Belle out of the dip and back to an upright position; her momentum sent her spinning into his opposite arm, which automatically curled around her waist. Feeling the weight of her secure in his arm Adam lifted Belle up, continuing the flow of movement, and spun her around once, twice, three times, before gently lowering her to the ground. Belle’s mouth hung open at the suddenness of the lift, and instead of stepping away to catch her footing, she stumbled forwards until they were chest-to-chest. Her arm crept up over his back, resting just beneath his shoulder blade, and she fumbled to claim his free hand in hers. Moving his right hand so that it splayed comfortably over her back, Adam rested his cheek gently on the top of Belle’s head as she buried her face in his neck. The puff of her hot breath tickled slightly, but not enough for him to shudder involuntarily, and they swayed aimlessly as the last few bars of the song played.

Looking up, he saw Chapeau looking at the two of them, his head cocked to one side as if confused. Upon catching Adam’s gaze, however, he merely smiled and pressed a finger to his lips.

“Belle?” he asked gently.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Can we talk?” she whispered. “Somewhere quiet?”

Slightly confused, Adam just nodded. “Come on,” he said, leading her by the hand off towards the deserted room where the ceremony had been held earlier. Any attention their exit might have drawn was covered by Giovanna switching the input from Matteo’s keyboard to a pre-selected mix of songs, to give him a break from playing all evening long – this resulted in a small stampede towards the dancefloor of newly-energised guests, ready to dance to all the old favourites of their generation.

Adam shut the door of the ceremony room behind him with a sharp click. The sun had set just as the wedding breakfast began at five p.m. – now, at almost nine o’clock, the room was lit completely by the moonlight shining down. It was a bright moon, so bright that Adam didn’t feel the need to turn the lights on. So instead, he followed Belle over to where she stood staring straight out of the open windows at the gardens beyond. They could hear a faint bass hum coming from the reception room, but aside from that all was still and silent.

“You’re an excellent dancer,” Adam said, trying to break the tension.

“Thank you,” Belle said, turning her head to address him before looking back outside. He could see goosebumps rising along her arms, and she shivered.

“Here,” he said. He picked up his suit jacket, still abandoned on his chair where he’d left it after the photographs were done, and draped it over Belle’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Belle said again, but with a layer of surprise. She burrowed into the coat, and Adam felt a tug on the corner of his mouth.

“Belle, I – I have to tell you something,” he said. “And I understand if you –”

“Can I go first?” Belle interrupted, suddenly directly facing him. “Please?”

Adam nodded. Having obtained his permission, she seemed almost at a loss for where to start.

“I . . . god, I should have told you this at the start.” Belle clasped her hands together, interlocking the fingers. She looked up at him, and her next words came out in a rush. “I’mwelluhIguessthere’snoeasywaytosaythisbutAdamI’minlovewithyouandhavebeensince –”

“Woah – woah – Belle, what?” Adam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He hardly dared believe that he’d heard correctly, but Belle’s bright red face and refusal to meet his eyes seemed to support what he thought he’d heard. “You’re – you – you  _ love _ me?”

Her breath came in short little gasps. “Yes. I love you.”

Adam stood in stunned silence. Belle hurried to fill said silence, ehr words tripping over themselves in a way he’d never seen before.

“It’s just – your last year of uni we grew so close, hanging out all the time, and – and one day I just looked at you and realised,  _ oh shit _ .” She laughed at herself, a trifle hysterically. “And I was trying to work up the courage to say something for the whole rest of the semester, but then my dad flared up again and I just never got the chance to say anything before you left.” Belle paused, glancing up at Adam’s face again. She bit her lower lip, and continued. “And then the next thing I heard, you were dating Agatha, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. So I figured, you know, just –  _ deal _ with it, right? Don’t let it ruin a friendship.”

“Why did you – if you felt this way, why did you bring up the idea of being a fake girlfriend in the first place?” Adam asked.

“Part of it  _ was _ to help you out, Adam,” Belle said quietly, as if she was expecting an argument. “It’s just that – well, I thought that maybe the best way to get over you was with some exposure therapy. Get it all out of my system, so to say.”

Adam was still processing everything she had just said – Belle  _ liked _ him, she was in  _ love _ with him, she’d been in love with him for almost a year and hadn’t said a  _ thing _ – when he realised that she was backing away.

“And now I’ve probably ruined everything,” she muttered. “I should have just – just waited until the wedding was over. I’m sorry, Adam – maybe I should just go, I –”

“No! Belle, wait!” Adam ran over and took her hand. “Belle, I’m not angry, or upset.”

“How can you not be? I – I lied to you, I –”

“No, you didn’t,” Adam said firmly. “You hid your feelings, that’s all. God knows I’ve been doing the same.”

“ _ That’s all? _ It’s not some small  _ trifle _ that I – wait, what?” Belle’s eyes narrowed as they searched his face. “You’ve been –”

“I didn’t realise until I sat next to you during the ceremony,” Adam said. “But I think my heart knew before I did.”

“Adam . . .”

“I’m an idiot for not realising sooner,” he said, “but I kept convincing myself that it was just me being really fond of you as a friend.”

Belle chuckled, the reaction he’d been hoping for. “And it wasn’t?” she asked.

“No,” he smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His hand lingered on Belle’s cheek, and Adam gently bent his head to kiss her. Their mouths met, and Belle wrapped her arms around his neck as she sighed into his mouth, her breath cool and sweet. Adam kept one hand on her cheek as he deepened the kiss, using the other to press her body closer to his. They parted – possibly moments later, possibly minutes – and both broke into bright, unbroken smiles from ear to ear.

“I love you, too, you know. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“God, for two reasonably smart people we sure can be idiots, huh?”

A while later – after they had moved to a chair, with Belle perched happily on Adam’s lap and both of them talking quietly about the events of the past few months, interspersed with more kisses – Adam sat upright, nearly dislodging Belle. “I suppose we should get back to the party. People will miss us soon.”

Grumbling good-naturedly, Belle followed him back, holding her shoes in one hand and Adam’s hand in the other. To their surprise, they had been gone long enough for Matteo to be back up at the piano, playing the second half of the set. Belle led him back to a seat at the side, near Beatrice. The three of them chatted happily for a few minutes – smalltalk about the wonder of weddings, and this one especially.

“So,” Beatrice said. “I’m just curious – when did you two get together?”

Belle and Adam exchanged a look. “Well,” she said. “It’s sort of a funny story.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re done!
> 
> I can’t apologise enough for that six-month delay, but it was a pretty severe writer’s block + a pretty intense semester. Hopefully the feelings and kisses here make up for it :) See you guys on the next story!


End file.
